Suffer Silently
by Zipporah
Summary: George is unhappy, and Fred is confused... WARNING: TWINCEST
1. Suffer Silently - Part I

1 Title: Suffer Silently  
  
1.1 Author: Zipporah  
  
Genre: Angst/Romance (equal parts of each)  
  
Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. I am using them without permission, and for no purpose other than my own pleasure and hopefully yours. The story line is mine. Questions or concerns? Write a review!  
  
WARNING: In case you didn't see it in the summary, this story contains TWINCEST. It is all about TWINCEST. If TWINCEST (that is, twins with romantic feeling for each other) offends you, do not read this story. You are warned. Again, if you don't like TWINCEST, get out!  
  
Notes: Thank you Hurkon, for your suggestions, and thank you fanfiction.net, for posting it. Thanks in advance for anyone who feels compelled or obligated to review.  
  
All that said, read on if you dare!  
  
2  
  
3 Suffer Silently  
  
  
  
I'm sick.  
  
No, not physically sick. I'm almost never that. I come from a family of seven children - therefore, we've all had everything. Immunity is something none of us could live without. It's too bad, really. No, not not being sick. Not being physically sick. Being this kind of sick. That's what's so bad. If it were just my body that was messed up, I could take that. I would spend all day in bed getting fat, dreaming up new wheezes, and mum would bring me hot soup. Most importantly, he would be there, comforting me, and telling me to get well soon.  
  
But this is the one illness that he can't help me with.  
  
Because, you see, he's the problem. Him. My brother. My twin. My everything.  
  
My beloved.  
  
When, where, why, how. It doesn't matter. It isn't relevant. It just is. It just happened I guess. I doubt many people know why they do things like that. I'm sure no one can pin point the exact moment. But I'm sure it doesn't bother them like it bothers me. For them, it's a simple question- when did he become essential to me? For me it's so much more. When did I twist? When did I turn dark? When did I commit this.betrayal.for the first time? I don't suppose I'll ever know. Maybe I've always been like this, just below the surface.  
  
Sometimes, I try to convince myself that there's nothing wrong with me. I tell myself that I can't help it. That if it weren't natural, I wouldn't feel it. But deep down, I know that that's not true. That it can't be true. Regardless of the truth or fallacy of my convictions, they stand. While I can acknowledge that I may be wrong, that maybe it really is okay, I can't believe it. It goes against everything I've been taught, everything I've ever known. So I wage a war inside my mind. I feel it, and I desperately need that feeling, yet want so very much to be rid of it.  
  
When that tactic fails to do anything but convince me even more of my unnatural tendencies, I tell myself that it's okay because it's just feelings. Nothing is solid or tangible. Nothing is real. Even if I.feel.for him, I won't do anything about it. I can't do anything about it. Not only does he not want it, he's my brother. Nothing, then, could ever materialize. Nothing is real. It's simply a dark twisted corner of my mind. I try to convince myself that not even that is really there. I'm imagining that I love him. But that would almost be worse, wouldn't it? It's one thing to have unhealthy feelings for your brother. It's another to have healthy feelings for him and want to have unhealthy ones, just so you can hate them, hate yourself.hate him.  
  
No, I don't hate him. It's just that sometimes, I think I should. There are so very many reasons. Look what he's made me. He took my heart, and he ruined it. I could never love anyone but him - at least not in the romantic sense of the word. The way that matters to 17-year-old boys, right? But beyond that, if by some wholly unfathomable turn of events I did, I wouldn't be able to be happy with them. You see, this thing, it's sullied me. I can't allow anyone else to dirty himself. I wouldn't want them to. More than that though, he doesn't realize. He treats me the way I treat him - same as always. We're close as ever. It's just, I want to be closer, and he can't see that. Every part of me that I ever shared with him, I still share with him. It's just, there's more of me now. Can't he see that I'm holding back?  
  
Any normal human being would hate him for all of that.  
  
But when I think about it, it's none of it him, is it? No, it's all me. I'm the one who fell in love with him. I'm the one who can't do anything about it. I'm the one who can't love anyone else, ever. And I'm the one holding back from him. How should he know that? I deliberately keep it from him.  
  
Not just him. Everyone. This is my secret. Mine. I never can share it with the only person it could be shared with. Will I ever be able to just live with it, I wonder. Something tells me, no. Not when Fred, terrifyingly beautiful Fred, is around to remind me every second of every day.  
  
* * *  
  
There's something bothering George, I just know it. It's a sixth sense I have always had where my twin is concerned. When he's angry, hurting - when he's just about anything, I know. And before now, I've always been able to work out why, too. Always before he ever tells me, I know. That's why we're Fred 'n' George. Our connection is soul deep.  
  
I think I've always know what's going on in George's mind, because we're so close. I have four other brothers. But George and me? We're more than brothers. I'm not sure what we are. Maybe it's just a close connection that all twins share. But that just never fit in my mind. It's one of those things I just don't think too much about.  
  
Despite all of that, this time, it just won't come to me. For all my thinking, meditating, it won't spring to mind like it always has before. And that's not even the hardest part of it. The hardest thing is that I almost have it. I can sense it, taste it, just on the corners of my subconscious, just in the hidden depths of my dreams, the answers are there. They want to come to me. Yet they don't.  
  
Because the truth is, no matter how much I want to know what's wrong with my twin, no matter how deeply I want to stop his hurt, this whole situation has me terrified, on a base, instinctual level. I can never win the fight, overcome the adversary, take the answer I want, because the opponent holding the answer back is myself. Some part of me knows I don't want this, even as I know that I do.  
  
My innermost mind, the deepest part of me, tells me that knowing this time would be more than knowing any other time. Not just because of his problem, but because of mine.  
  
  
  
Author's notes: Alright, let's see. My first Harry Potter fic, my first slash fic, my first incest fic, and my first posted fic - all in one! I don't know. Should I continue, or am I completely hopeless? 


	2. Suffer Silently - Part II

Title: Suffer Silently - Part II  
  
1.1 Author: Zipporah  
  
1.2 Genre: Angst/Romance (equal parts of each)  
  
1.3 Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. I am using them without permission, and for no purpose other than my own pleasure and hopefully yours. The story line is mine. Questions or concerns? Write a review!  
  
1.4 WARNING: In case you didn't see it in the summary, this story contains TWINCEST. It is all about TWINCEST. If TWINCEST (that is, twins with romantic feelings for each other) offends you, do not read this story. You are warned. Again, if you don't like TWINCEST, get out!  
  
1.5 Notes: Thank you Hurkon and Corpruga, for your suggestions, and thank you fanfiction.net, for posting this. Thanks in advance for anyone who feels compelled or obligated to review.  
  
1.6 All that said, read on if you dare!  
  
2  
  
3 Suffer Silently - Part II  
  
  
  
I looked at her, and I was uninspired. She is pretty, but not beautiful. She is smart, but not brilliant. She is nice, but not a saint. The one thing that I can say for her is that she is a little bit amusing. She's not a prankster, like Fred and I are, but she can deliver a punch line. I cannot, however, bring myself to say more for her.  
  
She is a young woman by the name of Pascal. Although she is of age with my brother and I, her parents chose not to send her to Hogwarts, instead enrolling her in muggle school, and teaching her as much magic as they could remember on their own. Her life beyond her few muggle friends is completely ordinary. There is no tragedy. There is no drama. There is no angst.  
  
And yet...  
  
I look at her, and I see red. I am being figurative and melodramatic. I am not speaking of her long red hair, the exact color of my own. I am speaking of my anger, well concealed, that rises each time she is in my presence.  
  
There is nothing wrong with Pascal, physically or mentally, that makes me furious with her. I cannot stand her because inevitably, if she is there, my brother is there, and I am shown again that he is hers, not mine, a fact that brings with it inevitable conflicts within my own mind.  
  
I want him. I can say it now. Despite centuries of tradition, and the weight of international culture against it, I want my brother, because I love my brother. Yet it appears to those around him that my brother loves another.  
  
But then I look at her, and I have hope. Hope. HOPE.  
  
Because he doesn't really love her. Does he?  
  
Because he doesn't act like he's in love with her. He doesn't smile at her when she walks in, as my father smiles at my mother. He doesn't wonder what she will think every time he does something, as my mother is wont to do, concerning my father. He doesn't even watch her when their together, as Ginny watches Harry.  
  
Because I could go on and on. His eyes don't light up for her. He doesn't lean slightly towards her when they sit next to each other. He doesn't embrace her when he gets excited.  
  
Because those reactions are only mine.  
  
Because sometimes, she reminds me a little of myself.  
  
Because I hope that when he looks at her, he sees ME.  
  
The real problem with that, then, is that I know he won't.  
  
I can say can say what I feel, I can admit to it, but I can't bring myself to accept it. It makes me feel dirty, disloyal, abusive. It's as if I'm using my brother for something terribly illicit. It makes me need to act. I'm holding so much in my mind and heart, and it needs to escape. I'm so angry, at everyone. They don't care! They don't notice! And I can't forget, it's all my fault.  
  
Maybe I need to tell them. Maybe I need to do something myself, about the problem. Maybe I should just get it out of the way? Get rid of it? Would that mean getting rid of myself, or just my mind? Would that help any? And if I were gone, no one would ever need to know why.  
  
I can't help thinking, wondering, realizing. And I need to do something.  
  
*****  
  
She has long beautiful red hair. It's not dull red, you know, the almost- red-or-brown that some people who claim to be red-heads have. No, it's that vibrant rich glowing red that catches the eye right away. The same color hair as my twin, George.  
  
That red hair is the first thing I saw when I met her. It was the red hair that reminded me so much of George that made me talk to her. Sometimes when she's not around, her red hair is the only thing about her that I can see.  
  
Her name is Pascal. She is my girlfriend of two months.  
  
I think I surprised everyone, including her, when I asked her out on our first date. I guess I hadn't shown a really marked interest in her before that. I had, however, been thinking about her on and off for about a month. At least once a week, I would find myself asking, "Should I ask her out?"  
  
Actually, the idea was never mine in the first place. The week I met her was a Hogsmeade weekend. I was with Lee Jordan, but George was not present. He had gone off to think, a habit of his that was becoming more and more frequent. I guess I missed him more than I thought I did, because when I saw the hair, he was the first thing I thought of. I began to call out his name, but Lee stopped me just before I made an utter fool of myself. Then he grabbed my arm and walked up to the girl. We made polite conversation, but I don't really remember much of it. Then I left. Later that night, while I was once again contemplating the state of affairs with my twin, Lee told me that he thought she had seemed "interested" in me. I brushed it off then, but the next weekend, she sought us out, and Lee suggested I might do something if I returned the feelings. That made me think: could I?  
  
The question pooped up at odd times after that - when I saw a couple walking together in the hall, when I saw people kissing in dark corners of the common room, and when single girls tracked down me 'n' George for friendly flirting. Seeing all the happy people, I couldn't help but want some of it for myself. Pascal and her "interest" always came to mind. Could I share in this enterprise, just by going out with Pascal?  
  
The more I thought about it, the more it all made sense. When I thought of her, it was nice enough, although admittedly she didn't make my heart pound as I'd heard girls one was in love with were supposed to. And I didn't think of her nearly as much as I thought of George. But the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. She was nice, and she had an excellent sense of humor. She had a tendency to break into a conversation with a witty, cynical or sarcastic remark, much as George is prone to do. We got along fairly well. She's exactly the person my mother always hoped and feared I would find. Hoped, because she is the type of girl to make a creative prankster like myself happy; feared for just the same reason.  
  
So I asked. And so far, I'm led to believe that things are going fairly well. At least, everyone in Gryffindor hollers when they see the two of us together. And if things aren't moving quickly, well this is my first relationship. Things haven't had a chance to fill in yet. After the first disastrous attempt, she told me herself that she was a little uncomfortable kissing, too. And she seemed willing enough when I suggested that we put it off until we knew each other better. Lee thought the whole incident hilarious, but George just glared.  
  
Which brings up something that's been bothering me. George has glared a lot lately, a continuous and unwelcome reminder of my guilt. For what? Well, a couple of things, really. First, I'm not seeing enough of him. I mean, I still see a lot of him - I see him more than I see Lee, more than a lot of friends see each other, but we're not normal friends. When thee whole Pascal thing started, I saw just as much of him as ever, but Pascal told me I wasn't paying enough attention to her - so i had to start. Although it was dumb and childish, I tried to bring George along on one of our dates once, but that didn't turn out well. I was happier, but Pascal kept trying to get rid of him, and George was just miserable. I'm not, but I sometimes feel like I'm abandoning him.  
  
Now is just not a good time to abandon George, because whatever it is it's getting worse. I guess that just goes to show you can push aside problems and create distractions, but they just keep coming up...  
  
  
  
Author's Final Note: If I follow plans and write part three, will anyone read it? In other words, review, and I will forever hold you in the highest esteem. 


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